Monk saw they were making the woodsman uncomfortable and changed the subject, asking about life in their home town. Shaun and Matthew answered their questions gladly while sipping their drinks, and when the soldiers began fingering their empty glasses meaningfully Shaun took the hint and bought another four drinks from the barmaid. Just ales this time. If they’d spent the whole afternoon drinking ‘old and filthy’ they would have been under the table in short order.

      The ale was surprisingly good for city booze and the four men downed several of the half pint glasses while chatting amiably like old friends. After a while the two forest men were feeling pleasantly light headed and began talking quite freely about their families, especially Diana, and the soldiers were impressed and surprised to learn that they had a cleric of Caroli in the family. They in turn told amusing stories about their commanding officers and some of the city’s priests of Samnos, but even though they mocked the followers of the God of War, the forest men could tell they had a grudging respect for them and would probably have been happier following them into battle than their secular superiors.

     The hours passed quickly in the tavern, and soon the soldiers announced that they had to report for duty. “This’d be a bad day to be put on a charge,” explained the taller of the two men, whose name, Shaun realized, he’d forgotten to ask. “Got a three day pass coming up, and Florrie’s bed needs warming up for her.” He winked at the woodsman, thanked them for their enjoyable company and then they left, passing a word with another of the inn’s customers as they went. "We'd better leave soon as well," said Matthew. "It's getting late."

     "Yeah, sure," said Shaun, who was beginning to feel pleasantly relaxed. "Just one more glass of the old falling down potion first though, eh? Tess, one more glass for me and my little brother here, if you would please." As the barmaid placed the drinks on the counter he fingered around in his pouch and found to his surprise that he was right out of silver and copper coins. With a sudden sense of foreboding, and cursing himself for losing track of his finances, he took out a gold clannet. "I'm afraid that's all I've got left," he said quietly, trying to hold the heavy coin so that his hand hid it from the view of the house's other customers.

     The barmaid's sudden shocked intake of breath was heard by everyone even above the hubbub of conversation, however, and a deathly silence descended as every eye in the room fixed on the glittering gold coin. Shaun knew he'd made a dreadful mistake and was stone cold sober as Tess, with a look of profound respect, took the coin and almost emptied the till to give him his change. Matthew watched in horror as one of the tavern's patrons slipped out of the door with a crafty look on his face. They drank their drinks as quickly as possible, while trying to maintain an image of confidence and security, and then left hurriedly. Outside it was getting dark. They hadn't realised it was so late.

     "Untie your sword, Matt," said Shaun as they hurried off down the road in the direction the barmaid had given them. “Let’s hope Monk and his pal were just trying to scare a couple of gullible out of towers.” The narrow streets and alleyways, which had seemed charming and quaint only a couple of hours before, now seemed sinister and threatening, with menace lurking in every shadow. They hadn't gone a hundred yards before their worst fears were realised as three ugly men with drawn swords stepped out of a doorway, blocking their path. One of them was the man who'd left the tavern a few minutes before. Another two men appeared behind them, blocking their retreat.

     "Now we don't want any trouble, do we?" said one of the men, smiling evilly. "Just hand over all your money and we'll let you go on your way." He advanced slowly, the other two close behind him. "Come on," he demanded, holding out a grimy, calloused hand. "Hand it over."

     Neither Shaun nor Matthew believed they would let them go, however, and they drew their swords. "Come and get it," said Shaun, trying to look and sound as mean and hard as he could. He knew that muggers were cowards, that they spent their lives looking for easy targets. He and Matthew were not only young, they looked young, and the brigands no doubt thought that their swords were only for show, that they had little, if any, experience with them. If they could convince them that they knew how to defend themselves, however, they might just slink away in search of easier prey.

     Sure enough, the muggers hesitated as the steel blades of their victims caught the rays of the red sun. Their leader, however, was made of sterner stuff, and seeing his companions falter, seeing his chance to win Shaun's gold wavering with their indecision, he decided to bring the matter to a head. Once the fighting started, his companions' doubts would disappear and the youth and inexperience of the two strangers would be revealed. He sprang forward to attack, therefore, and Shaun and Matthew put their backs to the wall before they could be surrounded.

     Soon, they were fighting to the limit of their abilities to defend themselves from five directions at once, and the muggers were trying every dirty trick in the book to end it as quickly as possible, before the guardsmen arrived. Two of them hung back, drew daggers and began throwing them. One of them stuck in Shaun’s slennhide breastplate, the tough leather stopping it from penetrating, and the woodsman brushed it away to land clattering on the cobbles at his feet, but another grazed his upper arm, making him cry out and drop his guard for a moment. The leader of the muggers would have run him through, except that Matthew managed to defend him until he was able to raise his sword again. In the process, however, he received a nasty cut on his sword arm, and the whole side of his body was almost paralysed by the shock of the injury. The muggers saw it, and pressed the attack even harder.

     They had never faced a magic sword before, though and were dismayed at how often it slipped through their guard, slicing through their heavy leather armour as though it were cotton. With one lucky stroke Shaun disemboweled the man in front of him, who fell back screaming, clutching at his stomach while blood spurted through his fingers. Shaun stared in shock, numbed by what he’d done, and if the muggers had attacked him then he would have been unable to defend himself, but they were equally shocked and almost bolted there and then, their initial enthusiasm dampened by what had happened to their friend. Everyone in the alley stared in horror as the stricken thug staggered back, tears streaming from his eyes as he cried his shock and disbelief, before collapsing onto the damp, filthy cobblestones.

     It gave Matthew the time he needed to recover from his injury and raise his sword again, and then everyone in the alley waited to see what would happen. The muggers stared at their intended victims, a couple of them visibly anxious to run off, but their leader only saw his cut of the profits raised to one in four and he grinned again. “They killed Jimmy!” he yelled furiously. “Get them!” He gestured for the others to attack the woodsman again, and Shaun and Matthew prepared to meet their attack.

     Matthew was growing weak as blood flowed freely down his hand, and he had never been as good a swordsman as Shaun to begin with, so it was only a matter of time before he was hit. Sure enough, a thrown dagger from the man at the back flew between the two men facing him and Matthew felt a hard thud in his side, just below his breastplate, as it plunged into him up to the hilt. The young woodsman stared down at the object sticking out of his body and felt a strange feeling of peace descending, as if this were the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. Then the strength left his legs and they folded up beneath him, dumping him onto the slimy, damp ground.

     With a cry of shock and horror Shaun fought back with renewed fury, desperate to get rid of his attackers so he could help his brother. His magic sword danced through the air like a living thing, seeming to take possession of him as it felled one mugger and sliced clean through another's wrist, leaving him staring stupidly at his stump until it did the same thing to his neck, sending his head bouncing down the street like a gruesome football.

     That was enough for the last two and they backed away in horror, their eyes widening in fear as they stared at the bodies of their comrades, then back to the man who'd killed them, standing there drenched in blood, his eyes blazing like a madman. One of them dropped his sword and ran screaming into the night, leaving their leader, the man from the tavern, standing alone in the street. Shaun took one staggering step after him, raising his sword, and he fled as well.

     Shaun fell to his knees beside Matthew, and was relieved to find him still alive, although just barely. Sheathing his sword, he gathered him up in his arms and staggered down the street to where Tess had told him the temple of Nimbus was, sobbing fearfully all the way. The street seemed impossibly long, and the tall stone building at its end seemed to recede as he staggered desperately towards it.

     Matthew was a dead weight in his arms and his muscles screamed in agony, but somehow he managed to keep going, sobbing prayers to the Gods every step of the way. He feared his brother would die before he got there, that he would arrive with a corpse in his arms, still warm and dripping blood. What'll I tell Di? he thought hopelessly, and he pictured her face, pale with shock and horror. She would blame him, of course, and she'd be right to. It's all my fault, he cursed himself bitterly. My fault! He was still gasping those two words over and over when he reached the heavy oak door and kicked it open, rushing in and surprising the priest who was in the middle of his evening prayers.

     "Please, help him!" he gasped, laying Matthew down on one of the wooden benches standing against the wall. "We were attacked in an alleyway. You've got to do something, please!"

     The priest examined Matthew carefully, fingering the dagger without removing it, and then he looked at the cut on his arm. "This is a sword wound," he said, staring at Shaun accusingly. "It'll have to be reported."

     "Yes, yes, all right, just do something!"

     The priest placed one hand around the dagger where it entered Matthew's body. He pressing down hard, gripped the hilt with the other hand and pulled. A spurt of blood followed the knife as it came free, but the priest was chanting prayers to the Lord of the Winds, the God of the Weather, and the skin closed over the wound. The wound in his arm vanished as well, the colour returned to Matthew's face. He groaned and opened his eyes. "Did we win?" he asked, sitting up slowly and carefully.

     "Yes, we won," said Shaun tearfully as the priest stood, staggering a little from the exertion of the healing. "Thank you," he said. "I can't thank you enough, but thank you anyway."

     "It was my Lord's power that healed him," replied the priest, who then said another prayer over the elder brother to heal his wound. "And now you will remain here while I find a member of the city guard to report this to. I'm sure that you're innocent victims in this affair, but the city's laws are plain and leave me no choice. I'm sure you'll be released with an apology as soon as you tell them what happened." He touched his holy symbol, a golden lightning bolt hanging on a chain around his neck, and said another prayer before leaving the temple.

     "Come on," said Shaun as soon as he was gone. "Let's get out of here before he gets back." They moved towards the entrance, but found to their surprise that they were surrounded by an invisible rubbery wall. It stretched when they pushed it, but only up to a point, and returned to its original shape when they stopped. "Why that..." Shaun began, but caught himself before saying something offensive about a priest in his God's own temple. That really would have been a rash and reckless thing to do.

     He drew his sword and hacked at the wall with it, cursing with every blow, but with no effect. Finally, his arms still weak and shaking from the effort of carrying Matthew, he gave up, and the two of them could only collapse wearily back onto the pews and wait for the priest to come back with the authorities.